"If I told you that I very much wished you to do something, would you care to do it?"
"Your wish is for me a command," Dyce answered gently. "If it were not, I should be grossly ungrateful."
"Then promise to go through with the election. Your expenses are provided for. If you win, I am sure some way can be found of providing you with an income—I am sure it can!"
"It shall be as you wish," said Lashmar, seeming to speak with a resolute cheerfulness. "I will return to Hollingford by the first train to-morrow."
They talked for a few minutes more. Lashmar mentioned where he was going to pass the night. He promised to resume their long-interrupted correspondence, and to let his friend have frequent reports from Hollingford. Then they shook hands, and parted silently.
After dinner, Dyce strayed shorewards. He walked down to the little harbour, and out on to the jetty. A clouded sky had brought night fast upon sunset; green and red lamps shone from the lighthouse at the jetty head, and the wash of the rising tide sounded in darkness on either hand. Not many people had chosen this spot for their evening walk, but, as he drew near to the lighthouse, he saw the figure of a woman against the grey obscurity; she was watching a steamboat slowly making its way through the harbour mouth. He advanced, and at the sound of his nearing step the figure faced to him. There was just light enough to enable him to recognise Iris.
"You oughtn't to be here alone," he said.
"Oh, why not?" she replied with a laugh. "I'm old enough to take care of myself."
The wind had begun to moan; waves tide-borne against the jetty made a hollow booming, and at moments scattered spray.
"How black it is to-night!" Iris added. "It will rain. There! I felt a spot."